


Between Two Worlds

by rainbow_writer



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Knows About Morgana's Magic (Merlin), Balinor Gets To Be A Father, Balinor Lives (Merlin), Balinor The Dragonlord, Canon Divergent, F/M, Good Morgana (Merlin), M/M, Meddling Druids, Merlin & Morgana Friendship (Merlin), Morgana Knows about Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Not Canon Compliant, POV Outsider, Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Arthur, Protective Merlin, Uther Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_writer/pseuds/rainbow_writer
Summary: After Balinor chose not to exclude Hunith from his flight away from Ealdor, their son Merlin is born, and try as Balinor might to stave off what the Druids have foretold, destiny still comes to call.
Relationships: Balinor/Hunith (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 337
Collections: Merthur Fics





	Between Two Worlds

Urgent raps on the door of the humble home that Balinor and Hunith shared in Ealdor were what the former and latter woke to, one morning. It was not uncommon for the villagers to request their help with this or that, but usually they did so when most people rose for the day, and not before.

Balinor grumbled under his breath, hoping this was about more than just someone being reckless near the river, or something else of the sort; in other words, an avoidable mistake. Still, he shoved his feet into his boots, and kissed Hunith’s forehead, then rose for the day.

Quickly, he moved to the door. When he swung it wide, a man he vaguely remembered as Henry said, “Balinor, sir, you’re in danger.”

Balinor then demanded, “From what?”

“Not what, who. King Uther Pendragon of Camelot is searching for you.”

Henry rambled further, but Balinor barely caught more than the bit where he mentioned that knights were seeking any acquaintance of his in a nearby tavern. 

This was not good.

It didn’t matter that Ealdor was outside of Uther’s jurisdiction, because the man didn’t give a damn about rules, especially not when it came to magic users, as of late. That had been proven many times over, after he had begun his tirade, following his son’s birth, and subsequent death of his wife, Ygraine. It was rumored that Nimueh had warned him, but still he pressed her, and now, everyone with even a drop of magic, was being hunted.

“Thank you, Henry,” he growled, then shut the door in the man’s face.

Hunith was up now, he discovered, when he turned around after. 

“They’ve found me.”

Balinor was tired, but the words came out in an urgent manner.

“Not yet, they haven’t,” Hunith said.

She looked as if she were ready to mount an argument, as she crossed her arms in front of him.

“They will soon and I can’t be with you when they do.”

Hunith, his love, his light, was not going to be met with swords like Uther meant for him to be, no doubt. 

No, he would not allow it.

The sheer terror Balinor felt was increasing by the second. This was no time for a discussion; he needed to flee.

“You would leave me, for what? I thought we chose to be in this life together now?”

Balinor closed his eyes, and spared a moment to just breathe. 

He knew she was right, but where would he take her that would keep her safe? Uther knew nothing of her, yet. If he were to discover that Balinor had found a shred of happiness, then he would be sure to snuff that out. Taking her was a great risk.

“If Uther’s men discovered that you’ve lived here, would they spare me, if you’re not around?”

The question stumped him, because Balinor knew that if he had even doubt for one second, perhaps she should go with him. The question was, where would they go?

“We don’t have much time.”

“I’ll pack what I can. But, Bal, you and I are a team. You should start acting like it.”

Were they not at threat of death, Balinor might have stopped to reply.

* * *

Several months later, after being taken in by a group of Druids, Balinor and Hunith welcomed a son named Merlin into the world. Hunith admired birds, and the way she saw how free they were, so it was an apt name for their child to be saddled with.

Another name, which Balinor had discovered being whispered around them, he ignored. That name had a destiny attached; one that he refused to entertain. It was a prophecy that would never come to pass, if he had his way. So, the fervent praises for their newborn son were kept away from him, Hunith, and their brand new babe.

Balinor had been raised to respect the seers and Druids; they were well versed in many aspects that he scarcely could claim to know much about, and they seemed to breath old magic, in a way that some users could only hope to. Still, becoming a partner and a parent had turned him into someone he hardly knew either; until Hunith or Merlin, respectively, he had cared for himself, and himself only. 

In truth, if she had not reminded him of their vows, he would have left her in Ealdor. What a mistake that would have been, he mused, one evening as he rocked Merlin to sleep, in a chair he himself had carved from spare wood that had not been used to retain fires.

The snoozing little bundle in his arms had been asleep for some time, but Balinor was not yet ready to place Merlin in his hand carved wooden bassinet just yet. Moments like these were precious, as less than a year ago, he thought he might not ever have such a time as this. He meant to treasure each breath of it.

* * *

Years went by, and Merlin grew. His magic developed alongside him, under Balinor’s tutelage, specifically. Though Balinor knew that he could not protect Merlin forever, he need not give those around him who might poison his son’s mind with the idea that Merlin needed to seek out what and who they deemed to be his destiny. So, Balinor raised him, as his father had with him before; Merlin learned of the beauty of magic, and the ways of being a Dragonlord, despite the fact that he himself might not use that knowledge for some time. 

It was not until Merlin was nearing manhood that Balinor agreed to hear out the Druids, when they suggested that his son should go to Camelot. 

“What purpose would that serve?”

The few who had been brave enough to mention it stood before the great hulking man, who was at least two of them, plus some, and demanded answers from them. 

Personally, Balinor did not care if he scared them, or not. What they proposed was madness, at the very least. Given that the three were aware of why he and Hunith had fled Ealdor, as well as Balinor’s thoughts on the matter, it must have taken something extraordinary for them to dare approach him with the idea.

“We have received several reports that Uther has your dragon, Kilgharrah, chained below the castle.”

Balinor was not shocked by this; after all, he was connected to the creature in ways the Druids could scarcely imagine. Still, he wondered why they were just now bringing this to them, when he knew innately that his dragon had been down there for some time. Longer than Merlin had been alive, even.

“Why Merlin? Why now?”

Again, the three Druids glanced between themselves, before the one in the middle, who had clearly been elected to speak for them pointed out, “Uther Pendragon knows many of our faces, or would see our tattoos. Unlike us, Merlin is unmarked and unknown. He could arrive there under the guise of seeking an apprenticeship with Gaius. As long as he does not share his magic with anyone, no one should suspect a thing.”

“You’ve trained the boy well, Balinor. He is ready for such a task.”

All three nod in agreement before him. 

Balinor could not disagree with them. He and Hunith had done their best to raise Merlin as a normal child, even when it had become apparent that Merlin was never destined to be normal, in any capacity. He had after all been able to move things with his mind since before he could talk. 

That had been a wild time.

Balinor knew their logic was sound, but even so, he replied diplomatically, “I’ll discuss it with my wife and son, first.”

Days later, a disgruntled Balinor alongside his wife Hunith, waved to their son one final time, as Merlin set off for Camelot.

* * *

Days and months went by, where Balinor would receive little to no correspondence from the citadel where his son had been sent. Despite the fact that he trusted his teachings, and his son, the boy had never been on his own before. Were it not for his uncle Gaius there in Camelot, Balinor would have never considered allowing Merlin to go, but what had won him over was his son’s reaction, if he were being honest. 

Merlin, for all that he had been given as a child, had never been away long enough to prove himself. He and Will had been under the close eyes of Balinor and Hunith, as well as the other druids who lived in the encampment with them. There was hardly a moment where he was alone, and at the chance to see a new place, he had jumped, despite knowing where he was tasked with going.

Before he had left, Balinor had impressed upon him the importance of remembering history, as it had the terrifying ability to repeat itself. On nights when there had not been a letter for months from either Merlin or Gaius, Balinor only hoped that he remembered what he had been taught.

* * *

The moment Balinor Emrys caught sight of his son’s mop top head brokering the hill that stood between him and their current encampment, tears welled up in his eyes. It had been years since he had laid eyes on him. In that time, he had grown into his boyish features, and looked more of a man than he ever had, in Balinor’s estimation from afar. The few missives that Balinor and he had managed over the years, had not done time justice. That much was certain. 

Upon further inspection though, when he discovered that Merlin had brought along companions, his resolve hardened; there was no mistaking who his companions could be.

How dare those bloody Pendragons, of all people, believe they could saunter up alongside Merlin without facing repercussions. As he watched the group descend the aft side of the slope, he could see that they were familiar with one another, going so far as to tease each other. Merlin’s ease did nothing for Balinor though, because as he had learnt many years before, Pendragons were not to be trusted.

They were within hearing range, when Merlin caught sight of Balinor and ran straight for him.

“Welcome home, son.”

As he let go, his eyes shot to both Pendragons, who were regarding him warily.

Merlin gestured back to them, but Balinor refused to hear it.

He held up a hand, which silenced Merlin where he stood, then said, “The Pendragons 

will be bound, and placed in separate areas so that they may not conspire with one another.”

Balinor watched as his son’s face morphed from unease to a look of pure horror.

“Father, please, let me explain.”

“No son. Even willingly, their presence here is unwelcome. The only good Pendragon is a dead one.”

Merlin’s eyes widened in fright. 

Balinor then looked away, instead focusing on others at hand who would do what his son would clearly not aid or abet. 

“Restrain them!”

Balinor said this, avoiding Merlin’s eyes, and instead glaring towards the two whom he was speaking of. Lady Morgana looked properly shocked, but Arthur held his gaze firmly, never once wavering, even as he was bound by the rope that was laced in magic of old. 

Merlin’s voice broke through their interlocked sight, and he could hear the distress in his child’s voice, but allowed it to fall on deaf ears. Instead, he turned away. Merlin might have been fooled by the Pendragons, but Balinor refused to be, even if they were as young as his only child.

Merlin was relentless though, going so far as to sob, and plead louder.

Balinor was not moved, and instead walked away from Merlin and the prisoners who were being taken to their new containment areas.

Still, Merlin pursued, following his father, now a force to be reckoned with as he placed himself directly in front of Balinor - something no one else would have dared to do, except Hunith. 

Where before Merlin’s face had been soft, it was now hard, and his eyes were steel - “Father, I refuse to allow them to be treated this way.”

“You have no say in the matter.”

Balinor tried to leave the conversation, but Merlin then matched him step for step.

“Arthur is not his father. He left Camelot because he refused to be what Uther wanted. Will you at least listen to him? He, Morgana, and Gaius are the reasons I’m alive right now. I escaped with his help.”

“It’s a trap son, and you walked right into it.”

“No, Arthur wouldn’t do that. You don’t even know him!”

“I know the man who raised him, Merlin. I refuse to believe he allowed you to lead him and his sister here for anything other than nefarious purposes.”

“Then you’re just as ignorant as Uther is.”

Merlin’s vitriol nearly caused Balinor whiplash. The man was stubborn, but had never fought Balinor’s beliefs with such fervor. While Merlin tread off, Balinor was reeling. Spying Will standing not far off, he beckoned him over. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Watch Merlin. If he goes near either of the Pendragons, I want to know about it.”

“Of course.”

“Off with you. Merlin’s back, perhaps he could use his brother right now.”

Not long after they had left Ealdor, Will’s father had stumbled upon them, begging them to take his only son. His wife had passed in childbirth, and he could not raise Will on his own. Balinor and Hunith had agreed, knowing that they would soon have their own child; the two then grew up like brothers. Neither was treated better, despite what Will might’ve said when they told him no to something.

Will nodded and strode in the general direction that Merlin had hot footed off to. 

Balinor shook his head and then went to patrol the area. Given that the prince and the Lady Morgana were near their homes, he would need to notify anyone who should be aware, in case Uther had followed them. 

Once that was over, night had fallen. The camp was small, but there had been multiple discussions at length about how to proceed, and the sun had begun dipping behind the horizon even before Merlin had arrived. Now, there were fires lit, and sentries posted. Although the Druids were a peaceful people, they had learned not to trust that no harm would come, even when it was promised that it would not.

Before Balinor could seek out Hunith or Merlin, Will ran up to him. 

“I did as you asked, and Merlin only stayed with me long enough for appearances. He’s in Arthur Pendragon’s tent now.”

A fair amount of irritation welled up in Balinor at that point; he was certain that even if he had not outright specified that no one should go near the prisoners, it would be understood. Leave it to Merlin to find a loophole. 

So, Balinor crept up to the point where the tent flaps parted. As it was constructed to be where prisoners were held, the fabric was pulled back to reveal all those who might be inside. In this case, it was Arthur Pendragon and his son, Merlin. Anger rose in Balinor at the sight of his son, conversing with their hostage - it was a direct act of defiance that he would not stand for, even from one of his kin.

A witchlight - a flame contained in a translucent orb - sat beside the two men, illuminating the majority of their space. It was of little import though, as Merlin and the Pendragon were close to one another, even though the latter was tied up to the main pole that held up the tent, and the former sat on the floor before him crying his eyes out now. Bile rose up in Balinor’s throat at the sight, but still he remained, hoping to glean what sort of relationship the two had with one another that would make Merlin defy him in such a manner.

Was it a misplaced sense of duty, or an ill begotten friendship? Balinor was unsure, but he knew that he could not continue without being made aware of the circumstance. That Merlin had openly ignored his obvious disdain for everything Pendragon was shocking, most of all for whom he had chosen to do it for - the son of their sworn enemy, Uther Pendragon. More to the point - no son of his should submit himself in such a way that he might be ridiculed by anyone, least of all, a Pendragon. There Merlin was though, seated upon the earth, weeping unashamedly before Arthur.

Voices filtered out into the night, but could scarcely be heard for how quiet they spoke. From his vantage point, Balinor strained to hear, and managed to detect Arthur’s deep voice murmuring softly over the quiet sobs that Merlin’s wailing had been reduced to. The first word he latched onto though was not just any word, but a name.

“Merlin,” Arthur said. 

The way in which he said Merlin’s name, not tersely, but dare Balinor think reverently, made him cautious. The voice was soft, and tempered in a way that he had not expected of the prince. As the young man looked upon his son, it was not a gaze filled with revulsion, but sadness instead. 

It was one thing for them to have a previous rapport. That they did was evident to even the casual passerby, or anyone who had witnessed them arrive together earlier. However, the emotion contained in that one utterance was more than Balinor had expected to find. Coupled with the look Arthur sported, it made him wonder what on earth he was witnessing.

Merlin looked up, face covered still in tears no doubt. 

“I’m going to tell you something that I tell every knight I train - no man is ever worth your tears.”

While Balinor found that he himself could not disagree. Merlin, however, had a different reaction. 

“You’re even more of a clotpole than I thought, if you think that your silly notions of what men should be would be helpful right now.”

Merlin insulted the prince so flippantly, and as Balinor watched further, he became aware that this was mostly likely a common occurrence, as it didn’t phase Arthur in the slightest. Instead, his face was lines of worry, directed at Merlin, who was still looking up at him.

Arthur’s next statement was said in a volume just above a whisper; Balinor strained to hear it.

“My father would have executed you on sight, if he knew who you were. At least this gives us some time.”

At this suggestion, Merlin exploded into action and through his words. Balinor no longer struggled to hear the conversation, then.

“Time for what, Arthur? To be reminded that no matter what we do, our hands are tied by our fathers, who have been warring since before we were born?”

Balinor watched as the prince swallowed; the knot on his throat bobbed accordingly.

“Time to say goodbye.”

Merlin, who had been pacing, turned back to Arthur. 

“Stop, Arthur. Just stop.”

Merlin’s shoulders sagged forward, to the point that the top of his head rested against Arthur’s chest. The intimate gesture was further compounded as Arthur dropped his own head atop Merlin’s. Wracking sobs filled the tent again, and rather than attempt to dissuade him, Arthur remained as he was, looking up only once to kiss the top of Merlin’s head and nuzzle it as best he could, despite the restraints. 

Disbelief struck as it warred with Balinor’s current understanding of the world. Still, the two men remained unaware of his presence, and continued on as if they were alone. As they did, Balinor bit his lip, hoping to hold back the sudden urge to shout at Merlin and demand he remove his person from the prince at once. Likewise, he willed the shock and revulsion he felt to be tucked away, at least for the time being.

Moments later, Merlin lifted his head, and wiped away his tears again, only to begin pacing afterwards. Balinor glanced towards Arthur, who followed Merlin’s movements through red-rimmed eyes of his own. Wringing his hands, Merlin drew both of their gazes towards him, unbeknownst to him. 

“There must be something we can do. I’ll try to talk to him again. This single minded ignorance is what got Uther where he is. My father isn’t like him. He has to see sense, eventually.”

The conviction in Merlin’s tone warmed Balinor’s heart, even if it was unfounded. Though waylaid by his emotions, even his son was aware of how he felt about the Pendragons. It was not out of pure hatred, but past knowledge that he based his opinions upon. 

A sigh escaped Arthur. 

“You are without a doubt the bravest man that I have ever met, but also the most stubborn to boot. Merlin, this war has gone on for longer than you or I have been alive. My capture is nothing more than routine in one such as this. You’re naïve to think that this will end in anything other than my death - it is the way of war.”

That Balinor could attest to. Uther had spared none in his rage. Should that not be repaid through Arthur, his heir? As he watched Merlin in distress, Balinor could not help but wonder. 

“No, Arthur, I refuse to believe that. My father is a good man. Disagreeable at times, but still he is fair, and -” Merlin’s voice cracked, “I refuse to lose you to unfettered hatred. We’ve come so far, and-”

Merlin dissolved into tears once again. This time that was not all though - where seconds before Arthur had been bound, he now was freed. This was made apparent seconds later, when Arthur’s arms encircled Merlin’s whole upper torso. Balinor ground his teeth as he watched Merlin fold against him, sobbing earnestly into the blond’s chest. The two stood there for some time, grasping onto each other as though their lives depended upon it. 

Eventually, the two parted, but kept each other at arm’s length. 

Balinor wasn’t sure when that occurred because at the point where they had begun murmuring and kissing each other, he had looked away. After a few minutes, he chanced a glance back to where they stood, and found that they were no longer tied at hip and lip, thankfully. 

Arthur’s hands reached on either side of Merlin’s face, and cupped his cheeks, while wiping off tears with his thumbs.

“If negotiations do not go well, and I must be executed, please promise me that you will always be you. Do not let hatred consume you as my father did after my mother’s death. You’re too good of a person for that.”

Merlin recoiled, as if he had been struck.

“Gods, Arthur, will you just shut up. I won’t let this happen. Have you so little faith in me?”

Arthur cursed, then spoke again.

“I’ve been prepared to lose my life from the moment I took up a sword, but I never thought I’d have to leave behind the person I loved most when I did.”

A strangled noise of frustration exited Merlin’s mouth.

“Then fight for your life! You know as well as I do that this isn’t right.”

Merlin seemed to be unsurprised by what was a revelation to Balinor. Merlin, it became apparent to his father, loved the prince back. If his crying and ranting were anything to go by, anyways.

“Right or not, if the positions were reversed, Uther would not hesitate to execute you. I would have to resort to smuggling you out of Camelot, or suffer a fate worse than death - witnessing your own.”

“Then allow me to take you away from here. We’ll go-”

“No, Merlin. That won’t help a thing. It will only ingrain your father’s hatred of me further, and this cycle of war between our two factions will continue on as it has, only you’ll have chosen me over your own kind. No, I won’t allow it.”

“How is that any different than you smuggling me from Camelot, were your father to have condemned me to death? You want me to watch your own but -”

“Yes, because unlike you, I’m not blameless.”

Before, Arthur had remained calm, but his last statement was loud enough, Balinor was certain at least half of their encampment had heard him.

It did not take long for Merlin to shout back, “With a tyrant like Uther as a father, who would be?”

Balinor waited for Arthur to scream or demand Merlin to take it back, but he didn’t. Instead, he spoke as if he hadn’t just been interrupted.

“Furthermore,” Arthur said, raising his voice again, “it means you’d be alive and well. Even if I’m not here to-”

Merlin crossed his arms now, breaking away from the hold he and Arthur had on each other.

“What of Camelot then? This isn’t just about me. What about Gwen and Lancelot? Or Leon and Percival? Gaius or Gwaine? Or countless others who believe in you, and the kingdom you want to build, just as I do. You’d allow them to be left to Uther’s designs? Everything we’ve done to foster prosperity or work towards it will be lost with your death.”

Arthur pursed his lips and his face looked to be considering what had been said. Balinor knew not what measures Merlin spoke of, or the people, except Gaius. He had to hand it to Merlin though, he and the young Pendragon were both matched in stubbornness. That much was evident.

Balinor watched as Arthur sighed again.

“If your father will speak with me, then I would like the chance to make amends. I don’t think it will work, but you’re right about the fact that I should try.”

He paused, and then looked to Merlin again.

“Thank you.”

Merlin’s response was quick, preening almost, “For what?”

“For being you. I don’t know what I’d do without your counsel, or your faith in me.”

“Guess you just got lucky, I guess?”

Arthur smiled fondly. There was no mistaking that sort of look. 

“The day you set foot in Camelot was the beginning of the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Careful there, Arthur. You’re starting to sound like you care.”

The amusement in Merlin’s voice was palpable.

“Merlin -”

“I love you, Arthur Pendragon. I will fix this, I swear.”

Balinor watched as his son again pressed his lips against Arthur’s own. Turning away, he left both men to their own devices, confident that neither would tuck tail and run. He walked to where the fire was at the center of camp - its flames were dwindling. Reaching for the metal bar he kept close at hand for such occasions, he flicked more kindling in and stoked the flames, until it was brought back to its former glory. With more light about, Balinor reached into his coat for the tools he used to carve dragons, and other creations. Dragons were his favorite though.

He picked up a thicker branch that hadn’t been tossed into the flames yet, and then began with no purpose other than to keep his hands busy. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. It also took restraint not to train his eyes on Pendragon’s tent, wondering if Merlin were still in there. For all that Balinor had expected Camelot’s regent to be, Arthur thus far had proven to be none of those. If Merlin could love him, then could Balinor come to trust him, maybe even respect him? Balinor mused, even Merlin’s tender heart was a discerning one, and perhaps there was merit in discussing why on earth he felt such affection for Camelot’s prince.

The notion was a hard one to swallow, but his son though he was kind, also would not ardently pursue someone if he thought it would harm others whom he loved. Even though he was forgiving, his capacity had a threshold - one Balinor seemed to have met in his refusal to listen to him or either Pendragon.

So intent on his woodworking was Balinor, that he did not realize his wife to be in his immediate vicinity until she had seated herself to his left. To say that her presence startled him would have been an understatement. Drawn from his thoughts, he found himself gazing into her kind, but strong face.

“What troubles you, dear?”

Balinor huffed, but continued his work.

“Merlin has never outright disobeyed me, even as a child. He might have snuck some sweet meat, or told a fib.” Balinor paused. “He has never given me so much grief over one decision.”

“Merlin is a level-headed young man. We raised him well. I think you would do well to listen to what he has to say, even if it is not what you wish to hear.”

“He’s a Pendragon.”

The statement was short, but that in and of itself encompassed all that irked Balinor about Arthur. In truth, not much else could, as he knew nothing of the man outside of his birth and what he had seen between him and Merlin.

“He didn’t ask to be his father’s son, Bal, anymore than Merlin wished to be yours. It was by luck of birth that we were allowed our child without strife, and nothing more.”

“Uther made promises to me too, many years ago, and we see where that has gotten us.”

“Uther is his father over, darling. Perhaps, before making any further judgement, you find out if Arthur is too.”

“And if he is?”

“Then there will be no place he can hide that either you or I will be unable to find him, should he wish harm upon our son.”

Hunith, though a plain woman at first sight, was strong, and good. She was the counter to Balinor’s gruffer tendencies - his balance and center. If she spoke her mind, he knew not to discount it.

“Alright. When you put it that way, perhaps I was more harsh than I should have been.”

“I know you’ll do what’s right, Bal. You always have.”

Warmth enveloped him, and then she pressed her lips to his left cheek. He might have turned and kissed her more intimately, if movement across camp hadn’t caught his eye - Merlin was emerging from Pendragon’s tent. Following his line of sight, Hunith caught where his gaze had landed. Patting his right leg, she then stood up.

“I’ll leave you to it then. Please, for the sake of our son, and those who look up to you, listen.”

With that final plea, he heard her footsteps tread back to their own bed.

Merlin was skirting him, watching him from afar. With Hunith’s words in mind, he reached down for his knife, and picked it up before standing up to his full height. Knowing Merlin, even though Balinor had watched him release the prince, the ropes would have been replaced to make it look as if he had never been there. 

Brandishing it in his right hand, Balinor went toward where Arthur had been bound. Merlin, having seen his trajectory, had broken out in a dead sprint. Being that he was more nimble, he reached Arthur first, and put himself in between his father and the prince, which Balinor discovered when he walked into the tent.

Behind Merlin, Balinor could see Arthur became more dejected when he saw the sight before him. Still, he did not speak up, or attempt to sway Balinor, even in his own misery. 

“Step aside, son.”

“No, you will not hurt him.”

“Merlin, move, now.”

Rather than acquiesce, he leveled his father with a look that could rival one of Balinor’s own when he was in a foul mood. Though his son was smaller than him, he clearly inherited some of his fierceness.

Irritated, Balinor then went around Merlin and swiftly cut Arthur free before his son might resort to something less cordial than a firm denial. He eyed the young man as he regarded Balinor with shock, marvelling at his unbound wrists. Merlin was also calm then, but shot a wary glance at him.

Balinor looked between Merlin to Arthur and said, “Step one foot out of camp, Pendragon, and you die.”

Arthur looked up at him and nodded.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Hurt my son, and I will gut you myself, then feed your entrails to the hogs.”

“Noted.”

Seconds later, Merlin rushed towards Arthur, who caught him in an embrace, still looking half stunned as he did. No sense of propriety seemed to be in either of them, as they clutched each other before Balinor as if their lives depended upon it. That neither felt the need to hide it, particularly the freshly released Pendragon, made Balinor less inclined to dislike him, if even just by a slight margin. Merlin did not deserve to be anyone’s secret. 

Balinor took this as his cue to leave. At least, he would have, if after he turned, he had not heard, “Will you be releasing Morgana as well?”

He turned to look Arthur in the eyes after that.

It was a thinly veiled challenge wrapped up in a question. 

Before Balinor could respond though, a scream dismissed the silence that had remained in between, as it spread across the camp like a blanket. 

Balinor bore witness as both Arthur and Merlin looked at each other and uttered, “Morgana.”

He then watched as the couple separated and ran out on either side of him. When he left the tent, he was drawn to the source - Morgana’s tent. 

After striding across the camp, he came to the tent she was housed in, only to find Merlin and Arthur on either side of her, trying to soothe her. Stepping up to her, he slit her free as well, where she fell into both mens’ waiting arms.

Merlin and Arthur helped her stand, then he found Morgana staring directly at him.

The look Morgana Pendragon sported was anything but regal; her eyes were blown wide in shock, and there was fear.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Morgana struggled to speak, so Merlin interjected, “She’s a Seer. She’s untrained though, and her visions come to her without cause.”

Balinor struggled not to laugh outright; whatever the girl had seen, clearly had shaken her. In his youth, if he had known Uther would sire a person born with magic, and another who would fall in love with a warlock, he would have not hesitated to do so. There would be time for that later, he hoped, though.

“I see.”

Morgana was inhaling and exhaling shakily, but then managed to choke out, “Uther is gathering an army to seize Arthur and I, as well as lay ruin to this camp. He will slaughter everyone, if we don’t do something.”

“Like hell he will,” Balinor said.

“Should we move camp?” Merlin asked.

Balinor shook his head in dissent.

“No, we have the element of surprise. He has no idea we are aware of his plans. We’ll prepare everyone for the possibility of the invasion, and have those without strong magic leave with the weakest few. The rest will stay behind and fight.”

“Alright, I’ll pass the news around.”

“I’ll come with you,” Arthur said. 

With both having left, only Balinor and Morgana remained in the tent after. Before he could speak up, she did instead. 

“I realize that our appearance was sudden, and that Merlin has been away for some time. Rest assured though, Arthur is here out of pure intentions - his love for Merlin and Camelot.”

Balinor nodded, unwilling to set his doubts out before the Seer, even if he now knew she held more knowledge than he did.

“I knew Merlin would come before he set foot in Camelot. His face and his voice were known to me before Arthur ever laid eyes on him. From the first moment I saw him, I knew that only good could come of his presence in Arthur’s life. I have yet to be proven wrong.”

Despite what Balinor had seen,he wasn’t sure he was prepared for what that meant for his family, or the days unmet, just yet.

“The future is ever changing.”

“So it is. However, rest assured that in each version I have witnessed, Merlin is present in all of Arthur’s. They are two sides of the same coin, Balinor. That cannot hate the half which makes it whole.”

The inevitability of Merlin marrying one day was always present, and as such, he and Hunith had been prepared to welcome someone other than their son into their family. However, what Morgana spoke of was more than a simple marriage bond - it sounded a bit more like destiny. 

“One more thing - should Uther feel acute loss when he marches upon this camp, he will go straight for Merlin. If allowed, Arthur will protect him with his life. Make Merlin aware that he should be prepared to defend himself, should this come to pass.”

“Thank you. I shall have proper accommodations for you shortly. If you wish to leave with the others whose magic is untrained though, you may. My wife, Hunith, will be amongst those guarding them.”

“Fear not, Balinor, I can wield a sword better than any man, including Arthur himself.”

Intrigued, Balinor found himself smiling begrudgingly at the words.

“Then you may stay. The more we have on our side, the better.”

“Thank you for that. Even Arthur has tried to leave me out of fighting for my safety before. As if I can’t protect myself because I’m a woman.”

She would do well amongst the Druids, Balinor felt. 

He nodded and then left the tent to help with preparations. There would be much to take care of, given there was no time frame. That was the way of visions, and so he would rather do it sooner instead of later, so as not to be caught unawares.

* * *

It took Uther less than a fortnight to arrive at Balinor’s proverbial doorstep. He had indeed brought a sizable army. What he did not have though, were dragons, or magic. If he had wanted to, Balinor and his lot could have slaughtered them all in mere minutes, if not seconds. That was not his aim though. 

Over the course of the last few days, he and Arthur had indeed sat down and talked at length. The man was good to his word, and had a vision for Camelot and the surrounding kingdoms that did not include instilling hatred as Uther had. Though it pained him to admit it, he had been wrong and Merlin had been right - Arthur was vastly different from his father. It was for this reason, when Arthur had requested that he be allowed to speak to whomever Uther might have conscripted for this assignment, that Balinor had listened.

Arthur had trained these men himself. His father had little say in regards to what happened in those sessions, and therefore they were more his own than Uther’s men. They had fought together, bled together, and lived together for years. They were family to Arthur, which was plain as day to Balinor the way the prince spoke of them. If he could get through to any of them, then they would be an asset in the overall end to the war - of which, like Arthur, Balinor was ready for, too.

As with the nights previous, since Morgana’s words of caution, there were guards posted all around to alert Balinor when Uther was within range. Likewise, Arthur had slept little, and could be seen pacing about the camp when not with Merlin, Balinor’s sources had claimed. He stoked the fire and helped where needed. Unless pressed by Merlin to rest, he did little of that at all. If the guards missed Uther, it seemed to Balinor that Arthur would know, regardless. 

As for preparations, with everyone pitching in, they took no time at all. Arthur and Merlin had led a few groups to an old abandoned stronghold that Balinor had taken to using in times like this. It would keep them safe for the time being. After, whatever was lost, would be rebuilt. 

Looking down upon Uther, with Kilgharrah lurking in the trees, Balinor stood with Arthur and Merlin at his side. Arthur was clothed in makeshift armor, as he had left his own behind in Camelot when he, Merlin and Morgana had escaped. Merlin stood close to Arthur, radiating the energy that he had been since he knew that Uther was coming - it was frantic and fearful, despite all of the power he held. Morgana stood to Balinor’s left as well, unafraid. Both of Uther’s children had assured Balinor that while they had the element of surprise, if the knights could see them both alive and well, then it would leave Uther’s argument dead in the water. 

Uther halted his army and his horse. 

“Release Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana immediately, Balinor.”

Arthur spoke up before Balinor could.

“We sought refuge with him, father. He did not force us against our will.”

Of all that Uther had been prepared for, by the grotesque form his features took after Arthur spoke, that had not been it. 

“You’ve been enchanted then. That’s the cause for your disobedience. Never would my son choose to consort with sorcerers willingly over me.”

“A few years ago, no, I wouldn’t. However, I have become aware that what you seek to eradicate is no more good or evil than the swords we wield. Magic is a tool, as are our battle weapons. I was led to believe many lies, but that you would poison my mind to ease the burden of your own mistakes, is unconscionable to me.”

Balinor almost laughed, as Uther looked as if he had swallowed something sour. He had to give Arthur credit where credit was due for throwing that in his father’s face. Even he was unaware that Arthur knew the circumstances of his birth. 

“This is your fault!” Uther turned to Merlin and pointed at him. 

Balinor looked to Merlin, who met Uther’s declaration with steel in his eyes. He also noticed the shift in Arthur when Uther placed his attention on Merlin. His body began to angle to him ever so much more, and his hand grasped at his sword, the one thing he had brought from Camelot, besides the clothes on his back. Briefly, he remembered Morgana’s warning. 

_“If allowed, Arthur will protect him with his life.”_

In all of the talking and preparation he had done, he had neglected to warn Merlin of what Morgana had said. From what he saw, the twitch of Merlin’s hands, and his own body angling to Arthur’s though, it seemed like he didn’t have to. 

_“They are two sides of the same coin, Balinor. That cannot hate the half which makes it whole.”_

He had scoffed at her words then, but in the days that had come to pass since their arrival, Balinor could not find fault in her statement. Though the two men bickered, and exchanged terse words on occasion, they also spoke soft words and enjoyed one another’s company. They were aware of one another even if they were not together, and they balanced each other, as he and Hunith did. Their connection was rare, and if he had not borne witness to it himself, he would not have believed that both he and Uther’s son were the ones involved. 

“Merlin had nothing to do with this, father. I came to the conclusions on my own. Do not redirect your hatred to a man who is all but blameless, unlike you.”

Uther recoiled.

“You dare defy me in such a manner? Over a sorcerer, no less?”

“He’s not just any sorcerer to me, but that matters little in the grand scheme of this conversation.”

Recognition flickered in Uther’s eyes for a few moments, Balinor noticed, but the King had little chance to address it, because his eyes were only for Arthur, who had now turned to look at the knights.

“Men, I have trained each and every one of you to the best of my abilities. We have endured much over the course of the time that I have had you under my command. So I ask you all, have you ever known me to be intentionally cruel, or demand of you that which I would not do myself?”

Balinor watched as Arthur addressed the group. Many had looked torn before, eyeing Arthur and those he stood beside with caution. However, they too were struck by this turn of events, as Uther was. When Arthur had spoken though, they had listened. 

A knight with curly blond hair stepped forward, willing his horse closer to where Arthur stood. 

“I promised I would serve you, Arthur. The promise of hope you gave me in what Camelot could be is what allowed me to continue to aid your father, even knowing it was wrong.”

“Thank you, Sir Leon.”

Balinor watched as others followed the knight who had bravely stepped up. They moved to stand behind Merlin and Arthur in particular. Slowly but surely, there was no one behind Uther. While Balinor had expected some defection, he had never considered all would leave Uther. Morgana’s words rang in his mind again.

_“One more thing - should Uther feel acute loss when he marches upon this camp, he will go straight for Merlin.”_

Balinor’s eyes snapped to Uther, whose vehemence thrown towards where Arthur and Merlin stood had reached increasing levels of fury. That he had remained silent for this long, was a miracle.

“You’re outnumbered, Father. Surrender here, and I will see to it that you will have a dungeon cell fit for a King.”

“This is treason!” Uther shouted. 

Though his anger was at its peak, it held little weight. 

“You desecrated the morals of Camelot for your own gain. I can no longer stand behind you, nor should I have, ever.”

A blazing rage became Uther, and he hopped down from his horse. Sword drawn, he advanced on Arthur. Balinor moved though, so that he stood closer to his son. 

“If you refuse to see sense, then take this Kingdom like a man - let us duel to the death.”

Arthur remained unfazed, and nodded. His sword he had drawn when Uther’s advance began, and it had rested in his palm, lying in wait to be directed by its owner. However, before he could begin to duel with his father, the man lunged toward Merlin, as Morgana had insisted he would. While Arthur had been caught off guard, Balinor was ready. 

He whispered a spell and soon the sword was lodged into Uther’s heart instead, creating a fatal blow. 

Silence pervaded the air, as all stood and watched Uther Pendragon as he took his last breaths. It was a day many had dreamed of, including Balinor. That he had been the one to render it brought him no joy, but solace in the knowledge that others would be safe because of his actions. He would settle his debt with the Triple Goddess when the time came. Uther had tipped the world into chaos though, so whatever his punishment, he felt it would be significantly less than what awaited Uther when he met his own maker.

After the last gasp faded into the air like dust in the wind, Arthur turned to Merlin. His eyes were wet, but he dropped his sword and grasped onto Merlin as if he were the life raft to grab him out of the turmoil that had broiled upon the sea he sailed upon. He shuddered against him, uncaring who saw, and the two took comfort in each other. 

Balinor glanced back, and what he found surprised him - the knights were either smiling or rolling their eyes in a playful manner at the scene before them. It was as if it were one they were familiar with. Turning back, he found that Arthur had pulled away, with his gaze now fixed on Balinor. 

“Thank you, Balinor. The loss of my father pales in comparison to what I would have felt if he had managed to harm Merlin.”

“He is my son, you know. I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know. I am still grateful, all the same.”

Merlin smiled at Balinor, and for the first time since he, Arthur and Morgana had stepped foot into their camp, Balinor was glad that they had, with no reservations.

“Thank you, for loving my son.”

“No need to thank me for that. It’s as effortless as breathing.”

Merlin beamed beside him. Tears sprung to his eyes, and Balinor had to look away and survey the rest of their own. The display was something that he had come to expect, but others were unaware of what Merlin and Arthur were to each other. Or at least they had been, until that very moment.

All around him, he looked and noticed that while some seem conflicted, others gazed upon them with smiles on their faces. The people in their camp were not particularly judgmental, but given who Arthur was, it would have been easy to loathe him rather than accept that perhaps he was not what he said. Countless had died at his hand or on Uther’s orders, and that still chapped Balinor in the deepest recesses, that they had lost so many. Still, he could also attest to the fact that Arthur had been led badly astray. If Merlin hadn’t been brought up how he was, perhaps in Camelot with Gaius, would he have been party to that only for Arthur? Would he have loathed himself even? Those fears terrified Balinor because by the way Merlin staunchly supported and loved Arthur despite it being inconvenient, he could see it. Still, the few who were wary, looked to him he noticed, and despite it all, Balinor could find no reason not to bless the union before him. He would be remiss not to, as Merlin had clearly made his choice. 

Balinor stepped forward and placed a hand on each man’s shoulder. 

“Welcome to the family, Arthur.”

A collective breath between the two, as well as others, was released. Hunith, he knew, would say the same thing if she were not protecting the others who had been unable to come as they had small children or frail elders to attend to. 

Merlin beamed at his father, and nodded. After releasing Arthur, he went straight for Balinor who was not one to dole out physical affection by default, but accepted it even so, as Merlin would always be the exception to that rule. 

“Thank you, father. You won’t regret this.”

“See to it that I don’t, Merlin.”

“I will.”

* * *

In the hours after Uther had been slain, Arthur spoke with his Knights. Balinor noticed that Merlin seemed to gravitate towards a select few, who in turn did the same with him. In the intervals where Arthur wasn’t speaking, because his son did observe some sense of decorum when it came to the new King, after all, it seemed, Merlin joked with them, and spoke rapidly, filling each other in on this or that. 

Balinor did his best not to eavesdrop, but his eyes made no such promise, as he still watched his now adult son, wondering where the time had disappeared to. It felt like just yesterday, he and Hunith had welcomed him into the world; one very different from what the future promised to be, and now, here he was, a man. A good one, if Balinor’s judge of character hadn’t been skewed by familial duty, he wagered.

Seeing Merlin amongst Camelot’s nobles, and the like, was odd, but he blended in, and it seemed they had welcomed him with open arms. Had that been Arthur’s doing? Balinor could only guess.

Hunith and those she had taken, arrived some time just before darkness fell. 

When she did, Balinor was there at the makeshift entrance of the plot of earth he had called home for many moon cycles. There, he took her in his arms, and held her close, as others returned to their homes, so that they could sleep.

After a few moments, she pulled away, and looked behind him to see Arthur seated in the center of the camp, Merlin close at his side, and the Knights who had chosen to stay and sleep off the day, surrounding them.

“I take it Uther met his match today?”

Balinor nodded.

“He thrust his sword at Merlin, and I turned it on him, where it struck his heart.”

Hunith exhaled a shaky breath.

“A fatal blow?”

“He took his last breath hours ago.”

Tears sprung to Hunith’s eyes, and Balinor could do nothing but reach out and wipe them away. 

“It’s over. We’re free.”

Balinor never thought he would hear those words in his lifetime. He was elated that he had the capacity to be wrong.

Seconds later, he grasped onto Hunith more firmly, then lifted her off of her feet, and twirled her around in the air, before setting her down and kissing the love of his life thoroughly. 

When they parted, Balinor looked back to where the others were, and became aware that their private moment had not only been theirs; Merlin was smiling, and a look akin to awe was on Camelot’s King to be. That was, until he became aware he had been found out.Then, he glanced away, as if he hadn’t been looking their way at all. 

Merlin was more unabashed, and winked at Balinor, before reaching a hand down to thread it with Arthur’s, as he and the Knights continued to talk. 

“He’s a good man, that Pendragon.”

“He seems quite taken with our son.”

“So I’ve seen.”

As glad as Balinor was to see his son happy, Hunith was home now, and the threat of potential casualties had been suspended. Those two men, and their star-crossed love was the last thing on his mind, at that point. 

Once he was sure their encampment was secure, Balinor led Hunith back to their tent, for a dance as old as time, followed by a sound night’s sleep. It would be the first one either had in many years.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all,
> 
> so this has been sitting in my docs forever, and... I just can't stare at it any longer. I don't want to fully discard it, but I figure I'd release it into the wilds and wash my hands of it, because as much as I love it, having so many WIPs that haven't been posted, is irritating me at this point. 
> 
> I may or may not come back to add a 2nd chapter of them being back in Camelot, etc. I have like 1.5K that I cut off, but... I dunno.
> 
> Anyways, I hope whoever reads this will enjoy! 
> 
> Regardless of if you do or not, thank you for taking the time to read the author's note. I hope you have a lovely day!


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